After the repairs, the date for the “refererendo revocatorio” was finally settled: August 15, 2004. I do remember the exact date this time.And the question that was finally approved by the CNE (electoral institution) as the one to be made at the revocation recall was the following:"¿Está usted de acuerdo con dejar sin efecto el mandato popular, otorgado mediante elecciones democráticas legítimas al ciudadano Hugo Rafael Chávez Frías, como presidente de la República Bolivariana de Venezuela para el actual periodo presidencial?” Mean: “Do you agree about letting without effect the popular command, given by democratic and legitimate elections to the citizen Hugo Rafael Chávez Frías, as president of the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela for the current presidential period?”
My mom laughed when she read the “official question” because for her sounded a little bit redundant, like “Do you really, really want, are you definitely sure you want to take off the command, just for the knowledge of the good, amazing, legitimate, democratic, incredible, popular president Chávez?”
Was almost a joke, but a joke we had to answer by saying “Sí” (yes). Soon the electoral campaign for that event started. The meetings with my youth group at the political party I was part of back then were incredible frequent. They become one of my closest groups of friends during those months. We talked about where to put the publicity and give the pamphlets supporting the “Sí” while the government was making an amazing political campaign for the “No”.
The streets of Caracas were decorated with big red and white posters of the “No” and the yellow, blue and red (the colors of our flag) posters of the “Sí”, some of them displayed at the middle of the night by my group of friends from the political party and me of course. Mass demonstrations about either the “Sí” or the “No” and campaign spots that consisted on some kind of marquee decorated with flags and posters, and a table with pamphlets and one or two members of the party given then to the people and talking to the people about why they should vote either for the “Sí” or the “No”.
One of my friends, one day, took his car and put one of those spots alone because the rest of us didn’t wake up early enough. Some days our spots where displayed just in front the red ones of the supporters of the “No” and some chants were screamed from one side to another; but nothing way too serious at least on my area (I only worked on the areas near by my home).
I spent some weird vacations (our classes usually end at the middle of July) by being 24 hours a day involved in the political campaign. We felt we were really working for putting an end to this horrible regime.
And now that I look back, now that the political fights I’m involved pursue very different goals, I know it was crazy to just request the end of the government and then “let’s see what we are going to do”. Actually not even we, that were working at a political party and not just any party but Primero Justicia which was one of the most important party’s during the days before the “referendo revocatorio”, knew exactly what was going to happen or what to expect after the recall if we won it.
We had an idea of a temporally government lead by the vice president until the end of the period in 2006 and new elections but that scene that came across our mind as something certain wasn’t exactly a good scene either. The promise was that Chavez was going to leave the power, yet not the Chavismo but we didn’t get it or fully think about the implications of that promise. And even so, we didn’t doubt for a second, while we installed daily the campaign marquee and displayed posters at night; that we were the winners.
Before I knew it, it was August 15, 2004, the last day of Chavez as we thought it was. And it was the first time in my life that given the fact I got my ID back and I could finally register in the electoral institution, I was able to vote. I almost didn’t sleep the previous night, couldn’t hold the excitement.
My mom was randomly selected by the CNE (electoral institution) to work inside the voting centre. A new voting system had its debut that day. The technology was shaking hands with the democracy (we should put some words between quotation marks, I think).
First, loads of machines called “capta- huellas” that were displayed to read the finger prints of the voters and guarantee the principle of “one voter, one vote” (well, we still wonder how they could do that and at the same time to guarantee another principle: the vote should be universal, direct and secret, as the constitution says so).
Second, more loads of machines were bought and displayed to make the vote it self. By pressing one button you could decide if you wanted the president to stay or leave.
During the electoral campaign we focused on giving instructions to the upcoming voters about how to use those machines in order to vote correctly. My mom, since she had to take a course for working at the electoral centre, explained us over and over again how the process was going to be. Still, after so many explanations, those machines and steps made it all a little bit confused.
We get to the electoral centre before sunrise to drop my mom and start making the line for voting. The tension was extreme since we had heard many rumors of possible attacks and intimidation from government supporters across my city. Yet, my electoral centre in particular was in a very distant location, away from the main avenues so I doubted anything could happen to us.
We heard about Lina Ron (that community pro- government blonde leader I have talked about on previous entrys) making tours with her followers around some electoral centers, although political campaign was strictly prohibited but in Venezuela the prohibition works only half way more often than not.
The lines soon became bigger and bigger. You could notice the same excitement I felt on many people waiting on the lines. Some reading the paper or random books (a friend of mine remembers the recall as the day she read the 4th book of Harry Potter from head to toe since she had to wait a lot for vote), some others playing dominoes and the most, talking about the historical events displaying. “This is definitely our last day with Chavez as a president” – I heard from the people over and over again. It was easy to read an almost utopist hope in their eyes.
I waited around eleven hours in order to vote for the first time in my life. Wondered, if my parents had to sign and repair their signs over and over again and then wait for eleven hours to vote when they did that for the first time. For being a process where you didn’t had to choose from a list of candidates but yet only vote “yes” or “no”, it was ridicules slow. And when I finally entered the voting centre I knew why I had to wait so many hours to vote.
First, I was told to go to a room to put my finger print on the “capta- huellas” machine. The machines failed over and over again (and crashed a few times during that day) before they finally capture your fingerprint. Then, I had to sign in the electoral notebooks.
If because of a twist of bad luck, the electoral center member was a pro-government one; this person could take several minutes before finding the line where you were supposed to sign. Yet, although I’m way too young to have any memory of electoral process before Chavez, my criticism is not centered there, there was nothing wrong about signing on those notebooks, it was just for knowing how many voters attended and how many were missing. And that shouldn't be related with your vote itself.
Then, I was finally taken to the voting machines to make my vote. The question was displayed in a scream and under, two squares with the possible answers of whom I had to choose. Someone correct me if I’m wrong but I think the “No” square was at the left side of the scream and the “Sí” (yes) square was located at the right side.
I’m not sure. When the electoral centre member asked me if I was ready while I looked behind some boxes (in order to guarantee, hope, the secret of the vote) a screen only I could see, I was so nervous that I don’t remember the exact location of the squares; only that my finger moved to one square of another praying that I could push the right square. It was a little bit complicated to make a mistake on this issue, was kind of hard to take all the system back to fix your vote so more or less, you had only one chance and the future of my country, as I felt it that day, was pretty much about me pushing the right square on that white screen.
After I pushed the “sí” square, a small piece of paper was printed; that looked pretty much like a bill. I was told to put that “bill” with the result of my vote inside a box. My mom looked at me and smiled, while she was busy given instructions to others inside the voting center.